Victims of War
by shaiwongsku
Summary: They were separated by war. One fights for the light and the other one chose to fight for the darkness. Both victims of war. Will their love survive the war or will it turned into a tragedy? IN-PROGRESS.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

 _Author's Note: This is my very first fanfic. I really hope that you will like it. Reviews are highly appreciated. Thank you!_

 **CHAPTER ONE**

"Harry, duck!"

Without looking back, Harry Potter ducked down and before the Deatheater could even cast a deadly spell at The Boy Who Lived, Max beat the Deatheater to it.

"Stupefy!"

The Deatheater was hit and fell into the ground. Max hurriedly run towards Harry and helped him stood up.

"Thanks," he said breathlessly as he looked back at the Deatheater that fell on the ground. Harry looked back at Max and noticed her bleeding arms. "You're hit!"

Max rolled her eyes and grinned at Harry. "It's just a scratch, it's nothing. Come on, we need to evacuate the rest of the people to Hogwarts!"

Harry was about to argue, but Max was already running inside a house and he heard her casted a spell to another Deatheater.

He shook his head and smiled to himself. His list of reasons why he admired the girl just keeps on getting longer every day. Well, Harry thought grinning to himself, he will not be left behind and he ran towards the other house to help his team mates.

Meanwhile, Max, together with the two little girls she rescued a while ago, apparated to Hogwarts. She gently put down the one she held on her waist to the ground as soon as they were inside the school.

Hogwarts became a refuge for those people who are not capable to fight in the war. Professor Dumbledore surrounded the school with a very powerful protecting spell—preventing Deatheaters and even the dementors from entering the premises.

Only the members of the Orders and the people who weren't marked can apparate in and out of the school.

"Are you alright?" she lowered herself to the floor to put herself eye level with the girls. The girls nodded at her as their silent reply. She could see—could feel their fears and Max could not help herself but to hugged them both.

"It's alright. You're safe here, I promise."

She felt them relaxed in her arms. She smiled to herself.

"Max!"

She gently separated herself from the girls and straightened up. She turned around and saw Hermione running towards her, with Ginny at her tail.

Hermione hugged her first before gasping when she noticed Max's bleeding arm. Hermione didn't waste any time. She cleaned and casted a healing spell on Max's wound.

Hermione and Ginny were one of the five students that received an apprenticeship with Madam Pomfey months before the second war started. And now they help Madam Pomfey aid those who are sick and wounded because of the war.

"Please take care of these girls," Max said after she uttered her thanks to Hermione. "I need to get back there."

And before Hermione and Ginny could even say a word, Max apparated back to Shammon Rock, a small wizarding village that is currently under attack by the Deatheaters.

As soon as she felt the ground, she hurriedly walked towards where her other team mates are. She saw Fred and Luna fight off two Deatheaters at the same time and was about to help them when she heard a scream.

She stopped on her tracks. She listened again. And just like in their training, she blocked out all the other noises and only focused on the scream.

 _To the left!_

She immediately ran towards her left barely noticing that she entered the woods. She ran and ran and prayed that she arrived there on time.

 _There!_

She finally saw a woman and a little boy cowered on the ground. The woman put herself between the unmasked Deatheater and her child already accepting her imminent death.

"Avada Ke—"

"Expulso!"

Max's wand produced a burst of bright blue light and it hit the Deatheater before he could even finish his killing curse.

The Deatheater was blown off far away enough from the woman and her child and was slammed into a tree. His body fell limply on the ground.

She walked towards the woman.

"Are you alright?" Max asked, but before the woman could even answer, the little boy escaped from her mother's arms and ran towards the body of the Deatheater.

"Don't—"

A hand stopped her from following the boy. She looked at the woman. "What are you—"

"Father!"

It was from the boy as he shook the lifeless body in front of him.

"Father! Father, wake up!"

Max's eyes widened in shocked.

 _Oh no…no… no way…_

"Mum, father won't wake up! Mum, let's wake him up!"

A sob escaped from Max as she realized what she had done.

She killed a Deatheater…she killed the child's father.

"Please…don't blame yourself," the woman said and smiled sadly at her, tears running from her eyes. "You only did what was right at the moment. You saved us."

The woman tapped her left cheek before she walked towards her crying son.

Tears started to fall from her eyes. Max wanted to apologize, but she knew that an apology won't bring back the life of the little boy's father.

She let them mourned for several minutes before she apparated them to Hogwarts. She first made sure that the woman and her child were aided by the healers before she apparated back.

Instead of apparating back to where her team mates were, she returned to the woods where the lifeless body of the Deatheater was left alone.

She casted a spell and a deep hole in the ground appeared. The hole was deep enough to bury the body of the unnamed Deatheater. She levitated his body and gently placed him inside the hole. She covered it up and conjured a bouquet of flowers using the Orchideous spell; she placed it on the top of the make-shift grave.

She kneeled down and transfigured a small stone into a tomb stone. Using her wand, she engraved words on the tomb stone.

She closed her eyes to pray to whoever is listening from above. At that same moment, a man in a dark hood appeared behind a large tree. He was far away enough for Max to even notice.

Max did not know to whom she is praying to, but still she did. She prayed for everyone. She prayed for those innocent people…for those who lost their lives in the battle; she even prayed for a miracle.

When she was done, Max took a last glance at the grave before standing up and apparating to where her other team mates are.

The man hiding behind the tree finally took a step forward and walked towards the make-shift grave and read the words engraved on the stone.

 _Here lies a father and a husband; a victim of the war._

He kneeled down and touched some of the petals of the flowers placed on top of the grave. _A victim of the war_ , he read the last five words again.

His wand clenched tightly in his hand as he remembered the fleeting sense of peace he felt as he watched the girl praying on the very ground he was standing on to.

He stood up from kneeling and looked up to the dark sky. He closed his eyes and prayed; he prayed just as how she prayed to whoever is listening from above.

He prayed for her safety.

He prayed for his mother.

He prayed for a miracle.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **CHAPTER TWO**

 _Mid-March, 1993_

"Miss," there was a pause. "Maximilliane," she cringed as her professor took another pause saying her whole name. "…Royce."

Snape finished reading the parchment where Max's name and some of her necessary information was written. He looked up at her. Max felt uncomfortable in her seat; and the fact that she was alone in this class did not really help to ease her.

Her potions lessons would be in one of the dungeons of the school. The room was as creepy as the professor and also, as cold.

"Royce," Snape said coldly making Max shivered. His eyes were darker than the room. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Max blinked thrice; she was taken aback at the sudden question. She promptly searched her mind for some hints and some clues.

 _Powdered root of…_ she grinned. She was glad that week before her classes—due to her excitement—she read her books in advance, especially the one about potion-making.

"Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion, sir. I read that it is a powerful potion that many called it as the Draught of Living Death."

Snape's eyebrow arched very so lightly that Max thought she was just imagining it. There was another pause. Max officially declared that Professor Severus Snape is the King of All Dramatic Pauses.

"Within the span of six months, you will learn the science and the art of potion-making. I don't expect you to really understand the beauty of it; there will be less wand-waving here and thus, many of the students who take this class hardly believe that this is magic," he said almost in a whisper but Max, miraculously, caught every word.

"I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stopper death," Snape slowly walked around behind his desk. "Do you think six months will be enough for you to learn all the lessons that first years and second years already learned?"

Max shook her head. "But I would like to take every class longer than it is scheduled. I know it will be a bother to all of you, sir, but please…I really want to learn all these things and I cannot do it without your help. I will double—no, triple—no, quadruple—my effort in studying for me to catch up to third year lessons."

Snape just stared at her as though he could see right through her soul. Max stared back nervously and was already rewinding her mind, trying to recall if she had said something erroneous that may lead Snape to throw her out from the Astronomy Tower. She was already thinking how she'll explain to her Uncle Charlie why she is expelled from Hogwarts. She was already thinking—

"Then, we shall begin," Snape cut off her trail of thoughts. He turned his back to her and started writing words on the board.

Max could not believe that she was not thrown outside. She immediately took out her parchment and her quill to copy down the notes on the board. She could not help herself but grinned.

"Thank you very much," she mumbled her gratefulness to her professor. Unbeknownst to Max, Snape was quite please at her. An image of a certain lovely girl was slowly emerging from the back of his mind, but before the image complete its form, Snape turned back to his solely student and began starting on his lessons.

As the Potions lesson progressed, she made two potions: a simple potion to cure boils and the Shrinking Solution. It took a lot of melted cauldrons, sudden explosions, and criticisms from her professor before she got the potions right.

Max, though exhausted more from Snape's criticisms, enjoyed the lessons. She liked the feeling of satisfaction at the end after all the efforts were exerted.

After her Potion class, History of Magic was her second class. At first she thought that she got the wrong class room; she almost screamed when someone almost transparent passed through the writing board.

"Good morning," Professor Binns greeted her. He seemed utterly incognizant of the fright he gave to her only student. "Albus told me about your situation and I am glad to teach you all about the History of Magic…"

Max scribbled down notes, yawned quietly, and scratched her forehead as Binns went on and on and on about famous events and names that happened in the past. When the class was finished, Binns said his good bye to her and instead of exiting through the door, he turned his back on her and walked through the writing board and on to the wall.

Max just shook her head. Her new world never stopped surprising her. She took her time to collect her things before heading to her next class—Charm class.

Professor Flitwick was the Charm teacher; he was a very small wizard. Max liked him immediately. He was all smiles, kind, and very friendly. She was eager to learn all about charms and Flitwick was more than willing to share his vast knowledge to his student.

"Now, just swish and flick!"

And the feather lying on her desk rose off and was about six feet above her head. Max could not contain her squeal of excitement. Two hours of theories and lessons about the basic wand and hand movements had quickly passed and Binns, seeing that Max already studied the theories in advance and already knew the basic of wand movements, decided to finally teach her how to take some of these theories in display.

"Remember, in casting a spell, saying the magic word properly is very important. Now, try to levitate the feather again. The magic word is—"

"Wingardium leviosa," Max said after she flicked her wand. She was expecting she would fail on her first try, but much to her surprise, the feather floated upward and was suspended in the air, above her head.

"Well done!" her professor exclaimed in delight. "Out of all my students, you are the second to make that spell work on their first try!"

"I thought I would fail!" she said honestly as she point at the feather to hover around the room. "This is so… this is marvellous!" she could not think of a better adjective to describe her amazement on her first successful attempt in levitation an object.

Binns merrily laughed at the amazement on her student's face. "Wait till you try the other charms!"

"Who is the first one?" she asked after she was done playing with the feather and finally letting it rest on her desk again. "You said, out of all your students I am the second one. Who is the first one?"

"Oh, it's Miss Granger," Binns answered with a smile, remembering the excitement of the room when Hermione Granger levitated the feather on her first try. "She is a brilliant witch. You will meet her when the school year starts."

After her first three classes, she took her lunch alone in the Great Hall. It was so grandiose. Max thought that her house could actually fit inside of it and can have more empty space. Being alone in the Great Hall might be overwhelming, but to Max, she did not mind being alone at all.

She liked to savour the moment of serenity and peace it offered at the moment. She felt refreshed. After a couple of minutes, various kinds of foods were magically served in front of her. She grinned as she began eating her meals.

Transfiguration class was Max's first class in the afternoon. Professor McGonagall was a tall black-haired witch in emerald green robes. She had a very strict face yet Max knew she was more than just her strict face.

And she was quite right.

"Miss Royce, Transfiguration is not something that can thoroughly learn in just six months," she began as Max took her seat. "You must help yourself and not merely depend on my teachings."

Max nodded.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she continued. "If you do like to mess around, then I advise you to immediately leave the room and never come back."

Max shook her head briskly at the last statement. "I came here to learn and not to mess around, professor."

Professor McGonagall nodded her head and took her wand out from the sleeve of her robe. She pointed her wand to one of the empty desk in front and turned it into a goat.

"Blimey!" Max exclaimed. She looked back at her professor and said, "Is that what you are going to teach me in this class?"

Professor McGonagall, taken aback by Max's pure excitement, gave her a smile; a smile that only comes once in a while. "And more," she said.

The first hour of their lessons was spent by studying history and complex theories about Transfiguration. Max scribbled all the important notes and occasionally, raised her hand to ask questions and Professor McGonagall was more than willing to answer all of her questions.

After a long note-taking, Professor McGonagall placed two match sticks on her desk. She pointed her wand to the other match stick and a sudden white light burst at the tip of her wand and as the white smoked cleared, Max's eyes were widened in surprise. The match stick had turned into a needle.

"Now, I want you to turn the other match stick into a needle," Professor McGonagall said to her student. "Remember the proper movement of the wand and focus on what you want the object to turn into—that is an important key in successful transfiguration."

Max nodded. She nervously took out her wand from her robe. _Focus. Turned the match stick into a needle. Focus._

Max aimed her wand at the match stick. With a clear image of a needle in her mind, she mumbled the magic word and a white light erupted at the end of her wand and hit the match stick. A white smoke rose from the matchstick.

Max immediately thought that she burnt the match stick to smoke. Max heavily sighed. She failed. But she immediately dismissed the feeling of failure and looked back to her professor. She said, "I'm sorry, professor. Let me try it again—"

Professor McGonagall nodded at the direction of the smoke. Max's eyes followed and widened as she saw two needles lying down on her desk instead of a match stick!

"How did I…?" words escaped her. She was quite sure that she failed.

"Congratulations," Professor McGonagall said.

Max grinned and suddenly felt good inside. She could not wait to learn more. Professor McGonagall, on the other hand, was quite impressed at her. Professor McGonagall could only name few of her students that successfully turned the match stick into a needle on their very first try.

She was suddenly reminded of Hermione Granger. Granger turned the match stick into a needle on her third attempt—the only student who made any difference on the stick on their first day. It did not really turned into a real needle, but it turned into silver and had a pointy end. It was a really good job considering they were just beginner at that time.

But Max turned the match stick into a real needle on her first attempt. Professor McGonagall was really pleased and she knew then that Max will be a brilliant witch.

Max, before she left the room, asked her professor a question about the Sorting Hat. "Does it hurt?"

Professor McGonagall wanted to laugh at her silly question but seeing the serious look on Max's face, she chose not to show even the tiniest smile. "No, it does not hurt at all."

"Do I need to do something before I go through the sorting? Like meditate to replenish my mind? Do I need to eat something—fresh mangoes, perhaps? What if my brain were full of rubbish and the hat decided to sort me into none of the four houses? Can it happen?"

Professor McGonagall smiled at her. "The Sorting Hat knows what he is doing. You just have to relax and sit on the stool. And no, not being sorted in any of the four houses can never happen. The four founders already come through with that."

Max nodded and was about to walk out from the room when she remembered another thing that really bothered her since she learned about the Sorting Hat.

"Do we really have to do it in front of everyone in the Great Hall? I mean, can we—"

"Miss Royce, thousands of students already undergone with the same way of sorting. Even I. Now, don't fret, you will be with the first years; you will not be the only one."

Max nodded again and said her good bye to her professor. _Can we just do it privately, in a room where no one is watching?_ Max thought as she headed on her next class, the Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Her professor for the Defense Against the Dark Arts class was still unknown to her. She was excited for this particular class. Who would not be? The name of the class alone could make anyone excited.

When she entered the room she was surprised to see Professor Albus Dumbledore sitting on the teacher's desk.

"Oh, hello, Maximilliane," Dumbledore said smiling at her. She already took a liking to the headmaster from the very first day they met.

Professor Dumbledore was tall like Professor McGonagall yet thin and very old— he had silver-colour hair and beard; it was so long that Max thought may be Rapunzel was real in this world. Just that Rapunzel might be a man in a long purple robe.

"Dark Arts is a very dangerous kind of magic," Dumbledore began after Max settled down on her seat. "You see, the coin has two sides and so is magic. Magic can be wonderful, enchanting, fascinating, yet at the same time, it can also bring harm, destruction, even death."

The whole hours of their lesson was all about the theories and explanations surrounding the Dark Arts. There were no demonstration yet but Max was satisfied in just listening to Professor Dumbledore's wise words.

At the end of the class, Dumbledore asked her about her other classes and the professor was glad that despite only having six months to covered all the lessons she needed to learn, she was able to catch up quickly.

"May I ask you a question, professor?"

"Of course," Dumbledore smiled at her.

"What…did my mother wrote to you before she died?"

Dumbledore saw the sadness that crossed her eyes and his heart sank for Max. He smiled to her softly; his blue eyes were light and kind behind his half-moon spectacles.

"She asked me to take care of you and to make sure that you drink your milk every night."

Max, through her misty eyes, grinned. Drinking milk was an inside joke between them when her mother was still alive. She used to hate drinking milk at night because she thought it would cause her to pee on her bed. Her mother, determined to make her drink the milk, told her that she would shrunk and never get tall if she won't drink milk.

It was silly, but because of that, drinking milk at night before going to bed became a tradition in their household.

As she left the room and headed on her next class, she had a thought that may be Dumbledore did not want to let her know the insides of her mother's letter _yet_. She decided that she would wait until Dumbledore himself let her know. She could wait.

Her Herbology class happened in one of the greenhouses at the back of Hogwarts. Professor Sprout looked like a plant herself, Max thought as she entered the greenhouse and saw her professor.

To Max's surprise, she enjoyed her Herbology class. She had a doubt at first; she never did any planting in her life before so she never thought that she would enjoy learning about the various magical plants and fungi. She suddenly had a wild idea to plant some of these things in her uncle's garden.

Next to Herbology Class is flying lessons with Madam Hooch. Max was terrified. Not of height, but of _falling down_ from heights.

Madam Hooch had a short gray hair. Max thought she looked like one of those female heroines in one of the comics she used to read with James, the only kid in their town who was not afraid to talk to her.

"Stand by your broomstick," Madam Hooch said loudly more than necessary. They were at the school grounds; very practical considering it's a flying lesson.

Max looked down at her broomstick. She recalled that first year students were not allowed to have their own broomstick—but she's an incoming third year, maybe she could persuade her uncle to buy her one. It might come in handy, she thought.

"Now, pay attention," Madam Hooch stuck out her right hand over her own broomstick and said, "Up!" Her broom jumped into her hand. Max was amazed. Madam Hooch really looked like those kick-ass female heroines. "Well, what are you waiting for? Come on, hurry up!"

Max hurriedly stuck her right hand over her broomstick just like how Madam Hooch did and shouted, "Up!"

But the broom simply shook on the ground.

"It's okay; you're not the first one. Try again."

Max was thankful for her professor's encouragement. She did try again and the broom instead of moving upward, it glided a couple of inches away from her. She ran towards it and again, tried to make it jumped into her hand.

On her fifth failed attempt, she became frustrated. Madam Hooch walked towards her and said, "Relax and take a deep breath. No one got it from their first try. Try again more calmly this time."

She inhaled deeply and then exhaled her frustrations. She nodded at Madam Hooch who gave her an encouraging smile. She, again, stuck out her right hand and shouted, calmer than her previous attempts: "Up!"

And finally, the broom jumped directly into her hand.

"Did—what just happened?" Max said disbelievingly at her own doing. "Did I really…?"

Madam Hooch grinned at her. "Of course, you did. Now, mount it," she walked towards Max and corrected her grip on the broom. "Come now, relax."

Max nodded and tried to exhaled her fear of falling from up high, but failed to do so. She really was afraid.

"Are you ready to fly with your broom?"

Max shook her head. "Not quite, really."

Madam Hooch laughed. "Nonsense. Now, once I blow this whistle, you kick off from the ground, alright? Keep your grip on the broom steady. Just rise a few feet."

Max closed her eyes tightly as Madam Hooch began her counting. "On my whistle, three…two… one, up you go!"

Max opened her eyes and kicked hard against the grassy ground and she soared. The wind blew through her dark brown hair. She was still scared but the excitement of being able to fly win against her fear of falling down.

"What am I supposed to do now?" she shouted back at Madam Hooch who was watching from the ground, grinning. "Am I supposed to do something up here?"

"Just fly cautiously around and enjoy the feeling of being up there!" Madam Hooch shouted back.

And Max did.

She flew around; up and down for several minutes and when she finally felt the exhaustion she warily darted on the ground and landed.

She felt wonderful up there. She felt at peace. She liked it. She already decided to write a letter to her uncle about buying a broom.

Madam Hooch congratulated her for being able to fly with the broom. She even told her that she might be able to be part of her house quidditch team, which she highly doubted. She already read about quidditch—falling down because you've been hit by a flying ball, which by the way weight a ton, was an offer she never fancy to accept. Ever.

After her dinner, she headed up to the Astronomy Tower and met Professor Sinistra. She was as mysterious as the night sky, Max thought. Professor Sinistra told Max to watch the night sky.

"Write down your observation," she said, her voice were dreamy and creepy at the same time.

At the end of their lesson, Max knew half of the names of the constellations.

Max felt the exhaustion of the day when she was finally resigned on her bed. She was staring at the ceiling of her room. Dumbledore made one of the empty rooms of Hogwarts as her room till she was sorted.

She continued to stare at her ceiling and she recalled the day she received her letter from Hogwarts.

 _February, 1993_

 _Dear Ms. Royce,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You are invited to be in Hogwarts this March to further discussed your situation with the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore._

 _We await your owl by no later than February 28._

 _Yours Sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall_

 _Deputy Headmistress_

"My mother knew about Hogwarts?" Max asked disbelievingly. Her eyes were wide as a saucer as she looked back and forth at the letter lying open on the table and to her uncle's calm face.

Her disbelieving face slowly turned into a frown as she pondered as to why her uncle was so calm and she, was so distraught. After she received the letter from an owl that suddenly flew right through her open window, she read it over and over again—Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; her eyes were glued on the school name especially on the last three words of it.

 _Witchcraft and Wizardry._

And then, as though an invisible veil had been lifted, she suddenly knew what was going on. She knew then what it was all about.

"I…am a witch," she said almost in a whisper. She said it not as a question, but as a fact. She looked at her uncle sitting across her on the dining table.

"Yes, you are," Charlie said softly to her.

"But…how? Why?"

Charlie sighed. "No one knows the answers, Max. Your mother and your father are..." he paused to think of a better word to use. "Ordinary," he supplied. "None of your family—none of us displayed such…remarkable abilities like yours."

Max sensed that her uncle wanted to say something more, but hesitating. "And?" she encouraged.

"Well, except for one."

Max anxiously waited for her uncle's next revelation.

"Her name is Lily Evans. She is one of our cousins."

Lily Evans. Max knew that name.

When she was seven years younger, she asked her mother about her eye colour. Her mother's eyes were blue; her father's eyes, according to her mother, were the softest brown. Yet, hers were green.

"Well, you got it from my pretty cousin," her mother smiled at her as she answered her question. "Her name is Lily Evans. You both have green eyes and both of you are pretty."

"Where is she now?" six-year old Max asked; excited to meet the person who has the same eye colour as hers. "Can we go and meet her? Please, mum!"

Her mother smiled yet her eyes were sad. She brushed her hair and tucked it behind her ears. "We can't meet her, Ilya" her mother said. Max wrinkled her nose. She is not very fond of that nick name but her mother insisted to call her that to make her name sounds more feminine.

"Why can't we meet her?"

"Because she is in heaven," her mother looked up, but Max could only see their white ceiling. Her mother smiled and said, "You know where heaven is, right?"

Max nodded. She knew why some people were already in heaven. Saddened at the thought that the person of interest was no longer with them, she hugged her mother and felt the comfort in her arms.

"Lily used to tell us things that, for us, were hard to believe," her uncle's voice brought Max to her present. "She even told us that she was a witch. Of course, we never believed her. We were just kids and you know how kids love to make up their own stories. Lily was a very nice girl unlike her older sister. She was very kind but we also thought that she was a weird one."

"Then at the age of eleven, Lily was sent to this school. Petunia, her older sister, called it school for freaks. We never got a chance to see Lily again after that because we moved here from Cokeworth."

"Years passed. Life went on and we completely forgot all about it. Then one night while I was tucking you in your room, I heard your mother frantically asking your father to go with her to visit Lily and her family as soon as possible. Sarah was saying about an old woman…and some kind of danger…from a vision," Charlie paused as he tried to remember every details of that particular night.

"It—it was blurry; all I remember is that your father finally agree to visit Lily, but he told your mother that he will go and visit Lily alone and that your mother should stay at home with you. The next day, your father left to visit Lily. But your father never came back."

Charlie shook his head. "We never find out what really happened to Malcolm," Charlie said, referring to Max's father. "It was a week after the Halloween when we received the letter about your father's death; the same day we received a letter from Petunia about Lily and her husband death."

Charlie stopped to wipe his mascara-laden eyes. He looked back at Max and said, "Sarah wrote to Petunia, asking about Lily's child, but we never got a letter back. The letter that contained the news about her sister's death was the last letter we received from her."

"Then you were growing up," he smiled at her niece softly. "And unnatural things began to happen. You know the story of how you tried to climb out of your crib, when you were just a baby? It wasn't Sarah that saved you—the real story was that you floated on your own."

"Sarah saw the whole scene. You floated and then slowly—softly you landed on the floor. You could imagine the look on your mother's face that day!" he laughed through his misty eyes. Max softly smiled; she suddenly missed her mum.

"We tried to ignore it, your abilities, I mean. We thought that by ignoring it, it will eventually vanish. But, of course, only fools will believe that—we were fools."

"Then a day before your eleventh birthday, while you and I were out to the zoo, Sarah told me that an old man named Albus Dumbledore came delivering a letter of your acceptance to Hogwarts—the very same school where Lily was sent to. He was looking for you. He told your mother everything about you and your unnatural abilities. Your mother told me that she politely turned him down."

"I never did blame your mother for turning him down. After you father died, she only had you. She loved you so much, honey, you know that. She did not want both to be apart from each other."

Charlie smiled again at her and continued, "Albus Dumbledore respected her decision and he never came back again."

"But why did they send this again to me?" Max asked as she picked up the letter. She stared at it as though it held all the answers of this world's mysteries.

"The day before your mother died, I saw her writing a letter. I asked her what was it all about but she just smiled at me and told me to put the letter in our mailbox. I was confused then—the letter had no address; it was just a letter inside an envelope with a weird seal. I was confused, but I did what she told me. I knew that it was important to her. Two days after she died, I checked our mailbox to see if the letter was still there, but it was already gone."

"Now I know what the letter was all about," Charlie nodded at her direction. "Sarah must have sent the letter to Mister Dumbledore. I know now that she was finally letting you go and discover who you really are."


End file.
